Organic Love
by HaveringFool
Summary: In Spongebob's voice: "What if Maura Isles, was a robot?" [Note: It's simply too overused - this joke - by me...and it has ceased to sound funny or amusing; yet, it's an adequate parameter to use as a summary - the line in quotation marks at least.]
1. Chapter 1

She hears a voice.

She blinks.

She registers a slight whir, a slight churning.

She blinks.

"You're awake," she turns to the voice.

It belongs to a woman.

She plays back the stored memories; she is searching her memory bank, in an attempt to locate a name for the face she is seeing.

The memory bank has been meddled with.  
It is mostly empty.  
She blinks.

She has to relearn skills and practice them till perfection once again.

She mentally calculates and tabulates the loss of knowledge.

"Maura?" The voice calls.

That is her name.

She turns to face the woman.  
The woman's facial expression signifies a look of, perhaps bewilderment?

She has always found it difficult to calibrate emotions.  
It is especially difficult now; there are no memories to reference.

She blinks.

It seems evident that she will have to regain the gaping hole in her knowledge bank to function well.

"Hi, how may I assist you?" She responds.

"How old are you, dear child?"

She observes that the woman's tone signifies that of gentleness, and that the woman wears a smile.

"I have been functioning for 8 days, 5 hours and 2 minutes as per moment of start-up." She tilts her head to the right a little. "There has been however, a state of inactivity and as it would seem, a loss of memory beginning from day 5, at 2 hours and 8 minutes till that of consciousness regained as of day 8, at exactly 5 hours."

She watches as the woman gives a small smile.

"Well, child...or if I may, might I call you Maura?" The woman addresses her with a question.

"Yes, you may address me as Maura; that is my name." She arranges her features to indicate agreeableness.

"Maura, how old are you built to be as of now?" She notes that the woman is rubbing at the ring on her left hand's ring finger; a sign of nervousness it seems to indicate. She does not speculate, she does not guess. However, she does observe and try to deduce from the provided information. The woman has brought forth another question.

"I have been built to be at the physical state of three years of age." She directs to the woman an answer. She blinks.

"So you're to be three years old then." The woman resumes the act of touching her ring in a circular motion, "Is it alright if my husband and I take you in?" The woman's tone reflects anxiety but her eyes, they do seem to transpire, sincerity.

She returns a smile. "It will be alright to. My name is Maura. It has been nice to meet you." She moves over to the woman to offer a handshake.

The woman takes her hand, not to shake, but to hold onto. "I'm your mother now Maura. I've chosen to adopt you and if you are alright with it, you are Maura Isles now." The woman squats down to be at eye level with her.

"Is that alright Maura?"

She registers a second of hesitation but the woman means to go on, "Maura darling?" She observes that the woman's smile is genuine and can be judged to be bright.

"My name is Maura Isles," she sends the woman a smile. "You are my mother now. What is your name?"

The woman's eyes have liquid in them. Vaguely, she thinks of the word - tears.

"Why are you," she considers if this is indeed what the woman is doing, "Crying?"

The woman still has on her smile despite her corneas being damp from, she decides on the term, tears.

"I'm happy to have you as my daughter Maura and, my name is Constance. Constance Isles," the woman smiles.

She smiles, "Hello, Constance. Mother?" She raises the intonation of the last word to signify a question asked. She is uncertain as to what to address the woman by.

"Mother is lovely Maura darling," Mother says and pulls her closer to her, "Mother is lovely, Maura darling."

Mother's arms are around her.

She vaguely remembers this action to be called, hugging.

She blinks.

She captures the moment.

Hugging is the first memory to her now no longer empty, memory bank.

Hugging is a nice memory.

* * *

**A/N: **Hi there, thank you, for the time~  
Alright, this is a re-upload, taken down again and re-re-uploaded because, oh just why not. I'll shorten (maybe drastically) or change dramatically, the initial plan but, best to never give up on a story right? Hmm.  
**New a/n** (and it's also a public reply - is there any other kind? - to the guest reviewer): Hi there, you do know that now I'm going to try and squeeze in as many punctuations as I can right? Hahaha. Just so you know, the punctuation usage (of all kinds too; and why shouldn't I? I don't want any full stop or comma - semi or not - or even a dash to feel left out. Would I?~) is my way of jotting down my very own thought processes. Maybe it's a condition, maybe I'm just a punctuation spawn; I don't know.  
I don't use anything for the fact or thought that it might make me sound smart, because there is no point in that - a person, is smart, because we all are; a person is as smart as they are - it's the administered tests of proof, that undervalues a person's smartness~  
And ahh...all I'm missing is an exclamation point (i.e. '!') so...have a lovely day yourself!~ =)  
Let me gander a guess too; I think the true message behind your review was to say that: You did pretty well, and, you must be cool enough to discover that beneath lines of skilled sarcasm (is it?). *hugs* =)  
All else aside, thank you for the review. I needed that - I lack human interaction and, you're just the kind - a guest~ =)  
Oh and on a serious note of course, I'm probably grammatically flawed so...take that into account. For I honestly have no idea when and where is it right to use a punctuation; I just like how it connects the thoughts, without breaking them - because, I'm like that.


	2. Chapter 2

"This will be your room Maura," Mother says as Mother guides her through a rectangle-shaped space.

She blinks.

She looks around the place Mother calls your room.

She blinks.

"I've gotten you a bookshelf Maura," Mother walks towards the area to Mother's left, "I filled it with books of all genres. There's fiction, non-fiction, and a couple of encyclopedias too."

She blinks.

Books. She remembers books.

"You like reading, don't you?" Mother looks at her with a smile. Mother asked a question, and Mother looks worried too.

She blinks.

She smiles without meaning to.

"Yes Mother. Reading is my favourite activity," she runs her fingers along glossy spines.

She blinks.

She looks back at Mother. "It's how I learn."

She blinks.

"Thank you."

"If there's anything Maura," Mother starts to say with Mother's hand in her hand, "Any book, anything, anything at all, that you want," Mother smiles, "Please ask, and if I can, I'll get it for you. Is that alright Maura?" Mother's hand is holding her hand.

"Yes Mother. Thank you Mother."

She brings her arms around Mother.

She blinks.

She is hugging Mother.

She smiles because she wants to.

Her second memory is hugging Mother.

* * *

**A/N: **Hi there, thank you, for the time~  
Update! Two chapters~  
**Personal note:** Might you...maybe, also consider the message I had left on my profile? It touches on future fanfics - which might be of interest to you if you follow the other fanfics I have written.


	3. Chapter 3

She sits on a chair - Mother calls it a beanbag chair, and she's not allowed to find the beans in the chair.

She sits on a beanbag chair, and she reads.

She remembers reading.

She remembers being read to.

She remembers; but she only has two memories - hugging, and hugging Mother.

She sits on a beanbag chair, and she reads.

She reads, and she blinks.

Each blink, a piece of knowledge gained.

She knows more than she did an hour before - a day has twenty-four hours, an hour has sixty minutes, each minute is sixty seconds; she is now eight days, six hours and forty-three minutes old.

But she is built to be three years old.

Mother called me a child.  
Children have a birthday every three hundred and sixty-five and a quarter day.  
I have never had a birthday.

I am only eight days, six hours and forty-four minutes old.

But I am built to be three years old.

She blinks.

And the gears in her mind whirl.

Her third memory is confusion; she likes memory number one and memory number two.

She sits on a beanbag chair, and she reads.

* * *

**A/N: **Hi there, thank you, for the time~  
If you're reading this, and the story too, thank you.  
I'll have to be honest and say: I'm teetering a little for this storyline so...anything goes really. Hmm.  
Thank you, for the time=)


	4. Chapter 4

As she reads, the realization that she's alone dawns on her.

She is alone.

She's on a bean bag chair, and she can, yes she can.

She can.

And so she begins, the simple exploration, the defining moment of rebellion - she rips the bean bag chair open and…

Little white beads - there were no beans - scatter and spread across the floor around her.

Along with it came, a crisp laminated sheet with the words - Happy April Fools

* * *

**A/N:** I had to. Happy April Fools from HaveringFool!=)  
Do disregard this chapter in terms of the story progression.


End file.
